Phobia
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: Russia knows all about America's fear of ghosts, and now America wants to know what scares Russia.


"What the fuck did I just watch?" America said dully, glaring at the TV screen as the credits scrolled by.

"I am not entirely sure," Russia replied, scratching at his chin. "The movie box says 'Uzumaki.'"

"Japan said it was a scary movie. This proves he is totally nuts. No ghosts, no zombies, no ladies getting stabbed in the shower, no girls who puke green and spin their heads around! Just a bunch of weird-ass spirals. How the hell is that scary!"

Russia felt even more disappointed than America. He always enjoyed watching a horror movie together after the annual Halloween party (which really meant that he enjoyed America's reaction to said horror movie,) but this year was a let down. America hadn't crawled into his lap _once_. How like Japan to spoil his fun...

"Shall I pick the movie next year? I am certain I could pick something that would terrify you so badly that you will not be able to sleep for a week."

"That's nice of you to offer. There's no point in watching a scary movie if it doesn't scare the bejesus out of you," America grumbled, switching the TV over to The Nightmare Before Christmas and munching sullenly on his bowl of stale popcorn (dyed a chemical orange in an attempt to be festive.)

Russia grabbed his half-empty vodka bottle off the table and took a thoughtful swig. Most years he had no time to drink during their movie viewing, as his arms would be full of America for the majority of the film. Another sign that this had truly been a dud.

"This is something I do not understand about you," he admitted. "What is the fun in being scared?"

"Iff a frill!" America said with an expressive gesture. When Russia raised his eyebrows, he gulped down the mouthful of popcorn and tried again. "It's a thrill. Adrenaline rush, right? It's like how roller coasters are fun!"

"Ah. I do not like roller coasters. Only Ferris wheels."

"Really? Does it freak you out or what?"

"Nyet, the first roller coaster I tried made me sick. I like vomiting even less than I like being frightened."

"Fair enough. But isn't there anything that you like that, y'know...spooks you a little? Makes you hair stand up and your heart beat faster? Gives you goosebumps and shivers?"

Russia thought on that for a moment, and finally settled on, "You."

"...Not sure if I should be flattered or offended by that, big guy."

"You appear flattered. You are turning red." A thrown piece of popcorn bounced off Russia's head. "Very well, I am sorry. I will try to make my compliments less ambiguous."

"Good, you do that. Is there really nothing that you like that scares you at the same time?"

"Nothing is coming to mind."

"What scares you, anyway? Ghosts give me the heebee-jeebees, but what are you afraid of?"

"Nuclear holocaust."

"No no no. Everyone is scared of that."

"...Belarus can be frightening."

"That wasn't really what I meant either. Like...phobias, I mean. Are you scared of heights, or spiders?"

"I quite like high places. And the fuzzy spiders are cute, da?"

"In the eye of the beholder, I suppose. How about elevators? Water? Dogs? Germs?"

"Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet."

"Come on, everybody is scared of something."

"Not me."

"Just tell me!"

"I will take it to my grave."

"So there _is_ something!"

"...I did not say that."

"Come oooon," America sang, poking Russia in the ribs. "You know I'm scared of ghosts. It's only fair you tell me what scares you too."

Russia forwent answering by taking another long gulp of vodka. He couldn't let America know the truth. He would never let him live it down...

"Alright, I'll play dirty. Either you tell me, or I'll get your sister to tell me. Not Belarus, the...the other one, with the great big-" He caught himself at the last moment when Russia gave him a very pointed look. "...G-great big...heart. Yeah, that's what I meant to say."

"Ah, then you must mean Ukraine," Russia said sweetly. "She does have a big heart, da? I am so pleased that you noticed. If that was indeed what you were trying to say. You did not mean something different, did you? I would be unhappy if you insulted my dear sister..."

"N-nope! Big heart, yeah!" He cleared his throat and got back on track. "Anyway, if you don't 'fess up, I'm going to her next. Maybe we'll have a few drinks and have a little chat. And while I'm at it, I'll get her to tell me all your embarrassing childhood stories too."

Russia felt the blood drain from his face. This was a very real threat. His sister was normally good about keeping secrets, but things tended to come out when she was drinking. It was lucky that Ukraine was too kind to blackmail him, because she had some truly mortifying stories about his childhood tucked away in her mind. He shuddered to remember New Years in '78, when Ukraine had gotten thoroughly drunk...and talkative. She had started by telling the entire room about how he used to take his clothes off and run around naked, and then moved on to the unfortunate fact that he wet the bed until the 14th century before recalling the time that she caught him trying on one of her dresses. But those stories were child's play. Ukraine could do much worse. He had been nothing short of horrified when she started to tell about the Turnip Incident. They had agreed to never speak of the Turnip Incident again, but the alcohol had apparently caused her to forget that agreement. It was a miracle that the vodka finally made her fall asleep mid-story.

Thankfully Latvia was the only witness who was sober enough to remember any of that (Belarus had been a witness to the Turnip Incident so it was no news to her, Estonia had already drank himself under the table and Lithuania had snuck off with Poland at some point,) and a few well worded threats ensured that he would keep his mouth shut.

Oh god, if America ever found out about any of that...at best, he would have to break up with America. At worst, he would kill him. The world must not know about the Turnip Incident.

"F-fine, I will tell you!" he surrendered with a moan.

"Will you?" America brightened up. "Okay, spill! What's big bad Russia scared of?"

Russia took another gulp of vodka and stared at the floor for a long moment.

"Come on! I won't tease you!"

Russia gulped, kept his eyes on the carpet and finally mumbled his answer.

"Didn't catch that."

"_mumblemumblemumble_"

"One more time, big guy."

"_mumble_"

"Speak up already!"

"The dark."

America's eyes went wide, and Russia felt his face burst into flames.

"_Seriously_? The dark? You're scared of the dark? Oh my god, I've never met anyone out of kindergarten who was scared of the dark-"

"You said you would not tease!" Russia wailed, hiding his face behind one of the sofa pillows.

"You tease me about the ghosts all the time! This is payback. I can't believe I never knew this about you. Do you have to sleep with a night light? Are you scared of monsters in the dark or-"

"You misunderstand," Russia muttered from behind the pillow. "It is only when it is really dark. If there is a little light, I am fine. But if...if I can not see my own hand in front of my face...it makes me...nervous. I-I do not like it when I can not see what is around me."

"Aw." America's arms wrapped around him, pillow and all. "Poor guy."

Russia let the top of his face peek past the pillow. "You will not tell any one else about this, will you?"

"Nah, I'm keeping your cute secret all to myself. I don't like sharing, y'know."

"It is not cute. I hate it. It is embarrassing."

"Not any worse than being scared of ghosts, is it?"

"Da, it is worse. Ghosts are not so common. Dark places are harder to avoid."

"Don't you worry, I'll be sure to leave a light on for you tonight."

"You are still making fun."

"Am not! I don't want you to feel scared when you're staying over at my house."

"I never do."

"Good. But we better share a bed, just to be sure."

"Well, I would not mind the extra security..."

"I didn't think you would," America beamed, leaning in for a kiss.

Perhaps this Halloween was not a complete loss.


End file.
